Sunday, 10 June 2012

THE MOTHER'S GIFT

Photo: Kendra MacFarlane

"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother
asked. When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth
to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked
out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears. Time proved
that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was
marred.

When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself
into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a
succession of heartbreaks.

He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...
called me a freak."

He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with
his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He
developed a gift, a talent for literature and music.

"But you might mingle with other young people,"
his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.

The boy's father had a session with the family physician.
Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears,
if they could be procured," the doctor decided.

Whereupon the search began for a person who would make
such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by.

Then one fine day, "You are going to the hospital,
son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a
secret," said the father. The operation was a brilliant success, and a new
person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college
became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic
service.

"But I must know!" He urged his father,
"Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him." "I
do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was
that you are not to know... not yet."

The years kept their profound secret, but the day did
come...one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his
father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a
hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother had no
outer ears.

"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be
cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less
beautiful, did they?"

Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in
the heart.

Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen, but what that cannot be
seen.

Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what
that is done but not known.